House of Sand

Moreover, the conversation was dull. Most of the people there were grey-headed, and they told stories they had told a million times to the same people. One woman explained how she ate five ice cream sandwiches as a child. What a knee-slapper. Someone told a story about how they got a flat tire in North Carolina. Fantastic. And David's grandmother ranted about how cheap chicken wings used to be compared to now. Here's a story: I fucked a woman this morning. Oh, I'd better not say that.

* * *

When I returned to Anna's apartment, we immediately kissed. "Ooo," she cooed. "You taste like burgers."

"I do not," I chortled. "You're making that up."

"How'd it go?" Anna motioned me to the couch to cuddle. We wrapped ourselves in one another's love.

"I was going to complain about how bad it was, but now that I'm with you--"

I kissed her passionately, this one lasting a long time. Then she bit at my bottom lip before whispering, "I missed you."

"I missed you too." I nibbled at her upper lip in return. Already, I grew wetter and my heart increased its pace.

"I missed you more," she purred, biting at my neck.

"Prove it," I murmured, grabbing her breast through her shirt.

"Okay," she challenged. She reached for a small brown box resting on the lamp table.

"What's this?" I asked, puzzled.

"Open it," she grinned suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Just open it," she squeaked.

I opened the box and pulled out one that was smaller. This one had nothing more than purple reflective letters spelling "ROCKET." As I opened the smaller box, my heart jumped into my throat. It was a purple strap-on, rubbery to the touch, but firm. I soaked my panties. Its design was not phallic and measured eight inches in length. On the reverse, it had a vibrating extension that the user could insert into herself as she fucked another woman. Anna peered impatiently over my shoulder as I held it in my hands.

"Wanna give it a shot?" She whispered, her words crawling down my neck and into my heart.

"Duh," I replied. "Now!" I turned to her and repeated, "now!"

We could not have taken our clothes off any faster. Anna strapped the rocket to herself. There was no need to use the lube that came with the toy. In the bedroom, she threw me onto the bed and thrust herself into me, going as deep as she could. I rolled my eyes in pleasure. She fucked me missionary style, creaking her bed with the rocking of her hips. She kissed me as we fucked. From missionary, we switched to cowgirl, and I squeezed her breasts as I rode her. From there, doggy style. I crammed my face into a pillow as Anna fucked me from the rear. The bed squeaked in agony as we drew closer to our orgasms. Anna slammed my ass against the front of her thighs, faster and faster, harder and harder so that my cheeks clapped against her skin. We came at the same time, both shivering, moaning, and dripping like never before. Afterward, we lay on our back. Anna's purple boner, sticking straight into the air, was slick from my pussy. She tossed the toy aside and we cuddled ourselves to sleep.

* * *

Morning came and I awoke to a bizarre feeling on my face. I opened my eyes to find Anna licking my cheek. I jumped up and giggled, "what the hell are you doing?"

"You taste amazing, Blue," she snickered. She climbed onto me and kissed me properly. I reached for her womanhood, but she pushed my hand away.

"What?" I squealed.

"It's time for work," she pointed to the alarm clock.

"It's six in the morning, we've got time," I insisted.

"No, you have to go home and get changed."

Realizing she was right, my heart sank. "Tonight," I teased.

Anna laughed, "of course!"

I dressed in last night's clothes. On the way out, I noticed a note taped to the door. Curious, I snagged it. It read:

"Ladies, while I'm glad you're having a great time, please remember that some of us go to bed by ten o'clock. You're louder than you think you are. Sincerely, your embarrassed neighbor."

My face reddened and my stomach tied itself into knots. "Oh, my God," I muttered. "Oh, my God. That's terrifying."

"What's wrong?" She inquired, coming toward the door.

I held her the note, though her reaction was opposite of mine. The corners of her mouth lifted, revealing her beautiful teeth and irresistible dimples.

"How could you possibly laugh at that?" I protested. "You don't think that's weird that someone can hear us?"

"Relax, Blue. Everybody fucks. We can't help it if we cum loudly."

That did nothing to console my humiliation. "Who do you think it is?" I wondered.

"If I had to guess, I'd say Mrs. DuBose downstairs."

I covered my face with my hands. "She's like eighty years old, Anna. That's so embarrassing."

"It's fine, Blue," she assured. "Would you rather not have sex?"

I stuttered, "n-- no, we just have to be quiet now." I whispered. "I won't be able to have sex without thinking of her."

Anna joked, "we could always invite her to join."

I punched her in the shoulder, but I couldn't keep from giggling. "You're so gross, Anna."

Anna's tummy quivered as she laughed. Her smile hijacked my soul. She added, "you cum louder than me, you know. You rock the whole building. That rocket toy especially makes us loud, bed squeaking and all."

"Well, I can't exactly help it." My humiliation transformed into a flirtation. "If you weren't so good at making me cum, I wouldn't be so loud."

Anna held her head high in arrogance. "As much as I'd love to make you cum right now, we have to get going," she suggested. "And I don't want to be miserably horny all day. Not a good aura for a teacher."

Chapter XI - Levitsky

February

Anna and I had been dating for three months. I practically moved into her apartment and abandoned mine. We kept our relationship to ourselves, especially since we worked in the same building. However, we told our closest friends, at least the ones who would have figured it out anyway. Also, Anna told her parents about our relationship, and they were seemingly as excited as Anna and me. Contrarily, I kept my parents in the dark.

It came time for me to meet Anna's parents, and we had plans to spend the night at their home. In the car on the way to Pennsylvania, Anna wondered, "why are you so nervous about every little thing? I've already told you they're going to love you. In fact, they already do love you because I've talked to them so much."

"I know," I leveled. "It's my anxiety, remember?"

"Yeah," she recalled. "I guess I'm not allowed to make fun of you for that."

I rolled my eyes. "You're allowed to make fun of me whenever you want."

"I am?" She hesitated.

"Sure," I maintained. "As long as you have a way to make up for it."

"Dinner and a movie?" She quipped.

"Or sex," I giggled. "I particularly like the rocket toy."

"But I don't have to make fun of you for sex. We can cuddle and fuck any day of the week."

My tummy filled with butterflies. That comment was no less arousing three months into our relationship than it was when we first had sex.

She changed the subject, "but when do I get to meet your parents?"

I looked out the window. My stomach became water. "I don't know if we ever should," I groaned.

Anna's tone soured. "But why won't you give them a chance?"

I argued, "because I know they're not going to like you -- well, it's not you, it's the idea of being lesbian. They won't even consider it, not for a minute."

"You never know," Anna contested. "Maybe they'll come around."

"I doubt it," I replied, still looking away. "You have a lot of faith in them, but you've never met them."

"I haven't met them, but I know they'll love you no matter what."

"They will," I agreed. "But they won't love you. Not as a girlfriend, anyway. You'll be the misfit of the family, I promise you that."

Anna sighed. "You don't know until you try."

"I know my parents pretty well," I lamented. "Don't get your hopes up."

"You can't keep it a secret forever," she claimed. "I love you, honey, but -- but a relationship can't be a secret for long."

"Can't it?" I petitioned. "Why not?"

She bumbled, "be-- be-- because I'm your significant other, right?"

"You are," I squeaked. "Of course, you are."

"So, that's not something you can keep pent up inside of you forever."

"It's only going to hurt us," I sighed. "They're not going to respect you -- they're not going to respect us."

"You have to try, Blue," her face turned stern. "You have to try."

The Levitsky home was situated amid a snow-covered field at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. On the porch of the modest home stood a man and a woman of considerable age, clutching one another as they awaited our arrival. Mrs. Levitsky threw her arms around me and embraced me like no stranger ever had. "We are so glad to meet you, Maddison," she yelped into my ear as she restrained me. "Anna told us a lot about you," she boasted in a deep Ukrainian accent. She had fluffy white hair, but she otherwise looked much younger than her age. Her husband hugged me from the side. He made Anna seem short, and he was about as thin as a healthy person could be. His hands were rough from years of labor, his skin sun-tanned, his hair silvery grey.

"Hello," Mr. Levitsky greeted with a shallow nod.

"Hello, sir," I returned.

Mrs. Levitsky welcomed, "come inside, please."

Mr. and Mrs. Levitsky hugged their daughter as she entered the home. Mrs. Levitsky wasted no time before bragging about Anna. She took me by the hand and lead me around the house. "This is Anastasia when she was eight. 1999, I think." She handed me a framed picture of Anna, depicting her with several of her school friends. At eight, she already towered over her peers. Mrs. Levitsky led me further, "and this is Anastasia's high school graduation picture."

I took the image into my hands. "She doesn't look much different, except for the really long hair," I observed.

Her mother agreed. "She changed it when she went to college."

"Ah, this one," Mrs. Levitsky brightened, her smile nearly jumping from her face. "Her first class as a teacher -- 2012." Watching her mother and me, Anna stood in the corner with one arm crossed against her body while her other hand rested on her chin. Her countenance maintained a sense of amusement as her mother towed me around the living room. There were other pictures lining shelves and furniture around the house, many of them of pre-World War II photos of family members long gone.

"And here's the best one," Mrs. Levitsky declared. She motioned toward a larger photograph, gilded in a golden frame. It was of Anna and me, a photo someone had taken at our holiday party at work. "This is you," she shared as if I could not tell. "It's a very nice picture."

"It is," I whispered. I looked to Anna again, and though she did not speak, she smiled softly. I could almost imagine her saying some sort of I-told-you-they'd-like-you remark. I had an impulse to cry, but I retained my collectedness.

Mrs. Levitsky included, "you are very beautiful, Maddison."

"Thank you," I answered warm-heartedly.

"But enough of old stories," she finished. "Let's sit. I want to talk about the present. I want to hear about you and Anastasia."

Anna and I sat on the couch while Mr. and Mrs. Levitsky each sat in a chair. I attempted to sit with as impeccable a posture as Anna. "So, you two really are having a good time, no?"

"We are," Anna held my hand.

Mrs. Levitsky chuckled, "she really likes you, Maddison. She always complains about her girlfriends. Sometimes they were annoying. Sometimes they were too needy. Sometimes there was another problem. But she never complains about you. And Anastasia only says what she means. She does not lie. She would get in trouble in school as a kid because she was blunt."

"Oh?" I questioned, glancing at Anna. "She didn't tell me that bit."

Her father joined, "the teacher called us -- said Anastasia told the teacher that he would be happier if he would stop getting divorced."

Anna justified, "he was on his fourth wife. Who gets married that many times and then shares it with a group of fifth-graders?"

Her father continued, "and there was the time she called a kid ugly in high school."

Anna shook her head, "she asked if the outfit made her look ugly."

Mrs. Levitsky waved her hand, "so if Anna says something nice, she is honest. She tells amazing stories about you. My favorite was the one about the rocket."

I clenched my lips together and squeezed Anna's hand. I felt myself becoming as red as a cherry. I side-eyed her, and she fought to contain her laughter, her shoulders bouncing, her face turning as red as mine. Images of her fucking me with the strap-on flooded my mind -- but this was not the right place for such a conversation!

"The rocket?" I choked. My heart skipped a few beats.

"Yes," Mrs. Levitsky replied. "We laugh for a while at that story."

Anna looked at me, "you don't remember that?"

I widened my eyes even more, "I remember, but -- I -- it's not as much of a story as it is a recurring thing. How much did you tell them?"

"Everything."

"Everything?" I puckered, trying to conceal my awkwardness.

Mr. Levitsky interjected, evidently recognizing my discomfort, "you don't need to be ashamed. We do stuff like that all the time."

"Oh------" I dragged out. "I -- well, that's -- uh. I'm not sure what to say."

Anna spoke, "you know what we're talking about, right? When you spilled your wine while watching that NASA rocket launch? Yeah, I told them what happened."

"Ohhh," I groaned slowly, tilting my head backward. "That rocket," I coughed. Anna struggled to conceal her enjoyment. I explained, "I'm sorry, I thought you meant something else." I forced a chuckle, "yeah, that was pretty funny."

Mrs. Levitsky continued, "you two seem to be good for one another. And I am glad. I need my daughter to be happy. She is stubborn sometimes and refuses to meet people."

"I am not," Anna defended. "I just don't like many people."

Mrs. Levitsky added, "but I am glad you met each other."

"We are too," I assured. "Anna and I are very close." Anna tightened her grip on my hand, sending shivers down my spine. "She has a kind heart."

Mr. Levitsky insisted, "we see. She is always in good a mood now that you are dating. She used to be cranky sometimes."

His wife glared at him. He shrugged, "what? All women are cranky now and then." She strengthened her stare and his face diminished.

After a quite lengthy conversation, Anna's parents retreated to the kitchen to finalize dinner. In our privacy, I whispered to Anna, "you did that on purpose, didn't you. Getting her to say 'rocket.' You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Anna giggled beneath her breath. "I don't know what you mean, sweetie," she answered facetiously.

"Oh, my God. I thought I was going to die," I admitted. "You are diabolical -- telling them a story in a way that was going to get me to think your parents know about our strap-on sex."

"Oh, relax, Blue. They know we have sex anyway."

"What?" My heart jumped out of place again.

Anna expressed, "I mean, they don't know, but they probably assume so."

"That's nasty," I whimpered.

"Everybody does it," she defended. "It's normal to assume that couples are having sex, right?"

"No. I mean yes. I don't know," I stuttered.

Anna leaned closer and breathed, "and they'll definitely know we do it if you can't keep quiet when I fuck you tonight." She squeezed my crotch and I squirmed happily.

"Oh, my God. Your father's going to come in here and see you being stupid."

Anna kissed my neck, "just a few more hours before I can have you in my mouth again. Or maybe I'll just use my fingers. It might keep you a little quieter."

My arousal flared like gasoline thrown into a fire.

"Anna," I yelled in a whisper. "We're gonna get caught."

"Soon," she smirked, kissing my cheek, pressing against my womanhood.

"Let's eat!" Mrs. Levitsky called us to the dinner table. She served us a delicious meal, over which we continued conversations about our lives.

"You have been dating since November, right?" Mr. Levitsky asked.

"About three months," I confirmed. He shook his head in false disgust. "You wait three months to bring Maddison here, Anastasia? Why wait so long?"

Anna's countenance was convicted. She swallowed her mouth-full of food and returned, "we're busy, Dad."

"Oh, дурниці," he huffed. "Nonsense," he looked at me and clarified. "What about during your break on Christmas or Thanksgiving? You did not bring Maddison then."

Anna justified, "we'd only been dating a little while at Thanksgiving." She spoke with her hands as she defended herself. "And Maddison had to be with her family too."

I shivered. The last time Anna called me Maddison was when she sang me a love ballad at La Mer. Mr. Levitsky agreed, "okay, she spends time with her family. Okay."

Mrs. Levitsky asked, "have you met Maddison's family, Anastasia?"

Anna looked toward me delicately. "No," she murmured.

"Will you meet them soon? Are we to meet them?"

I sank. I looked to Anna for guidance. She tipped her head forward to indicate that I should tell my story. "My parents -- they don't know about Anna and me."

The Levitsky's faces drooped when they understood what I was saying. I continued, "they are really set in their ways. They're traditional Christians and I'm terrified to tell them that I'm in a relationship with a woman." I felt a tirade of emotions muddling my mind. "I don't know if I can ever tell them without disappointing them, so I've kept it a secret for now."

Mrs. Levitsky grabbed my hand, her flesh warm and comforting. "No worries. We will accept you and Anastasia. You make her happy. That makes us happy."

"Thank you," I smiled. "That means a lot."

I continued, "I'll have to tell them eventually. I just don't know how."

Mr. Levitsky chimed in. "Anna told us when she was twenty." He chuckled, "we were washing dishes. We finished and were about to go to bed when she said, 'by the way, I'm gay.' Then she left the room and went to bed. She was casual."

I looked at Anna for confirmation, and she nodded. Mr. Levitsky added, "maybe your parents will not care. Maybe they will be okay with you and Anastasia."

"Maybe," I said, tight-lipped. Though, I didn't believe it.

"Don't be sad," Mrs. Levitsky instructed. I lifted my head.

"But you should visit more often, Maddison," Anna's father advised. "You have busy lives, but you're not too busy to come visit, right?"

"We're not," I grinned.

He joked, "and during the summer, you can help on the farm."

"No thanks," Anna jumped.

"I kid, Anastasia. But if you ever need to get out of that horrible city, you call and we will make you a bed. We will feed you too. Maddison," he looked to me. "My wife makes food more delicious than Anna. Her favorite spice is burnt."

Anna laid her hand across her chest and gasped comically, "I can cook when I try."

Her father shook his head. "Not very well. I've eaten your food before."

I remarked, "is that why you're always taking me to these nice restaurants?" Her parents laughed.

She retaliated, "cooking's not my thing. I'm good at teaching, reading, and music. Those are my things."

"Fantastic singer and pianist," I complimented.

Mrs. Levitsky agreed. "And we don't know where she got that from. We never gave her lessons or anything. We never even had a piano until she showed us she could play."

"She's just smart enough to learn it quickly," I flirted.

Anna grinned. "But we should visit more often. How would you like that, Maddie?"

"I'd love it."

* * *